A Good Run of Bad Luck
by Third Stage
Summary: Sequel to The Strange Face of Love. Sam and Dean run into trouble on a not so routine training exercise that leaves them stranded and alone in the wilderness. It's up to Sam to overcome his fears in order to save them both. Violence, swearing, slight AU
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**_Supernatural, it's characters and concepts belong to their rightful owner/creator. I make no profit from this. Lyrics are from Robert Plant's song "Big Log"_

**Warnings:**_Swearing, violence, angst. _

**Author's Note: **_Hey all. This is the sequel to my other fic, the Strange Face of Love. I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the other, and let me know your thoughts/opinions/ideas. Enjoy!_

* * *

**Prologue**

_My love is in league with the freeway  
Its passion will ride, as the cities fly by  
And the tail-lights dissolve, in the coming of night  
And the questions in thousands take flight_

_- - _

"This is fucking bullshit," Sam muttered under his breath as he scrambled gracelessly over yet another fallen log. Mid afternoon sunlight shone through the dense foliage, falling briefly across Dean's figure in front of him before his older brother sauntered into the shadows once more. Sam watched from his perch on top of the log for a moment as Dean shifted his duffle a little higher over his shoulder.

Shaking his head, he jumped down and followed him, trying to resist the urge to grumble some more about the whole stupid situation.

"Stop your whining bitch," Dean called over his shoulder, entirely too cheerful and not seeming to mind the latest unbelievable stunt their father had pulled. "Maybe if you shut your flapping lips for awhile we might actually cover some distance before nightfall.

"Why should I?" Sam asked Dean's back petulantly. "Maybe if dad wasn't such an ass I wouldn't have anything to bitch about."

"Now we all know that's a lie," Dean turned around, walking backwards and grinning at him. "Even if we weren't doing this, you'd still be whining about the man. Face it Sam, you have the emotional maturity of a teenage girl, and more estrogen to boot."

"Me? You're talking to me about emotional maturity?" Sam asked incredulously. "You're hornier than most fourteen year our guys! You're the one who me and dad caught with that skank in the back seat not _two _days ago..."

"Semantics," Dean waved a hand, turning back around and ducking a low hanging branch. "Will you walk faster grandpa? At this rate we'll never catch up with them before the weeks out."

"This is bullshit," Sam repeated, catching up to Dean so they were walking side by side. "I have assignments that I need to finish and he _throws _ us out here without so much as a by your leave!"

"Yeah Yeah, I get it. You're so hard done by, all the other geeks in your year will surpass you and you'll only get an average grade, I know. "Dean sighed.

"I'm _serious_, Dean..."

"I know you are. And I get it. So the sooner we get this little training exercise of theirs out of the way, the sooner you can get back to your precious books."

Sam felt a twinge of guilt at the resignation he heard in Dean's voice. He loved spending time with Dean, even if they weren't always doing the things he would have chosen. But this ridiculous facade of their dads and Bobby's was on an entirely different level to his usual stuff.

Who actually took their children out into the middle of nowhere, thrust a bag of weapons at them, and told them to get going? The aim of it, he'd explained tersely, was to practice their survival skills. Using their knowledge, they had to navigate their way to the designated meeting point within two days.

Seriously, the whole thing was all kinds of crazy. Sam had been outraged. Furious, fuming and gob smacked at the audacity of the man. Granted, things were rocky between himself and his father, but he hadn't expected anything of the sort from him.

And Dean. Dean, the little shit, just took it in his stride as if it didn't even faze him. He didn't even seem bothered in the slightest, and Sam had to admit that he was more than a little baffled.

"What's got your panties in a twist anyway, Samantha?" Dean asked conversationally, even as his eyes scanned their dense surroundings sharply.

"You mean this whole, "survival skills" shit doesn't bother you? Not one word of warning, nothing? Didn't you have plans this weekend too?"

"It doesn't bother me. Amy can wait until I get back. She won't be going anywhere," he smirked at him, his hazel eyes bright with humor.

Sam rolled his eyes and had to push aside his amusement at his brother. The guy was an the worst kind of optimist when he wanted to be, never giving an inch nor backing down, even when Sam was in the blackest of moods. Still, despite the hours of entertainment he often provided, showing that he could brighten Sam's mood would only go to his head and inflate his already swollen ego some more.

"Seriously, do you ever think with your upstairs brain? Ever? Just once, I'd like to have a conversation with you that doesn't involve the sex or girls."

"Ah Sammy," Dean threw an arm around his shoulders. "Who else do you have to teach you all this worldly knowledge?"

"Worldly knowledge? You?" Sam scoffed. "And it's Sam."

"Now now, Sammy. Is that anyway to talk to your older, more experienced brother?"

"Oh lord. Here we go," Sam muttered under his breath, trying his best to resist rolling his eyes again.

"I vow to you, Samantha, that by the time you turn eighteen your cherry is gonna be popped. I will find you a nice, hot girl who can screw your brains out and release all that pent up tension you're carrying around." Dean grinned.

"Dean, how many times do I have to tell you..."

"I won't hear any excuses Sammy. It is absolutely unacceptable that a Winchester male is still a virgin at eighteen. What would dad say if he knew? I, myself, am ashamed to even have to think about it," Dean shook his head dramatically.

Sam glared at him. "That's...too disturbing Dean. Even for you. I only just turned seventeen not a week ago. Besides, as if Dad would care. His head shoved so far up his ass that he can't even tell that the sky is blue and the grass is green."

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes, and he swung the duffle off his shoulder and into Sam's chest.

"Your turn to carry the luggage bucko. I'm going on ahead so try and keep up. I don't want to have to come after your sorry ass Gigantor."

"Dean..."

"Come _on_Samantha. We haven't got all day."

Sam shook his head, exasperated once more at Dean's unwillingness to even talk about anything to do with their father for even five minutes. He was an expert at diversionary tactics, a fact that their father had taken advantage of many times before but was a source of constant frustration to everyone else. Sam knew his brother better than anyone else ever could, and he had always admired and the person he was. He was strong, smarter than the average person, a genius when it came to fighting and weapons, brave and fearless in the face of adversity, but also understanding and gentle when the need arose. He loved fiercely, and protected what was his even if it beat him down to his last breath.

Having said that, he was also stubbornly infuriating, a prankster to the worse extent, a distraction that would never leave off and he could be amazingly dense for one so intelligent. He followed their father's orders to the letter but would rebel fiercely against anyone else's. He was hell on wheels, a ladies man and a devil in his own right.

But he was still fairly easy to figure out, despite all the ways he resembled John Winchester. Sam had never had much trouble when it came to figuring Dean.

It was their father that he couldn't suss out, and while that frustrated the hell out of him, a part of him didn't want to know what he was all about. The possibility that he wouldn't like what he found was all too real for him. The rift that had grown between them hadn't closed any after the Wraith incident, in spite of their tentative reconciliation at the roadside that day several years ago.

Sam couldn't deny that he had changed since then. He often felt like he was spiraling out of control, as if everything around him didn't make sense and comprehension was just beyond his grasp. It was a feeling that filled him with dread as it brought back dark memories of when he had been under the control of the Wraith. Sometimes he felt as if he was sitting behind a glass window and watching his life pass him by, powerless to make any changes.

If there was one thing he hated more than anything, it was feeling helpless. Dean often called him a control freak, and Sam wouldn't ever deny that because he knew it was true. The fact that he hated being unable to control what was happening around him was probably another reason why he resented being uprooted all the time by his father to move on to yet another hunt and new places to live. He needed a stability that wasn't available in the life they lived and it just gave him another reason to resent the man.

Sam had always felt like he was missing a piece of himself after the wraith was gone. It was an emptiness that couldn't ever be filled by anyone or anything, and sometimes it ached so badly that he thought he would splinter apart and fall to pieces at the slightest provocation.

Dean had always been able to sense when Sam was losing himself, and somehow he always knew what to say or do to make the ache recede just enough to make it bearable. The whole incident had drawn them closer together, which was something that he had never thought possible. He was grateful that something good had come out of his near death experience all those years ago.

There was something strange about surviving something that should have killed you. At first he had been so lost, unsure how to move on or what to do with himself. But life had continued on as it always had, with his dad leading them back and forth across the country, and Dean and Sam following along. In a way, the normality of it all had helped to ground him, even as he grew more and more at odds with his dad.

He supposed it was inevitable really, Sam thought as he walked slightly behind Dean concentrating on where he was putting his feet. His dad had been so willing to leave him behind, to walk away without looking back, and that kind of thing left scars that weren't easily healed. He hated him for that, and yet he couldn't deny that he still loved him despite all that had happened.

It had taken it's toll on Dean too. It had miraculously opened his eyes and he had visibly matured, seeming to realize that anything could happen at any moment and that they could easily be separated in the dangerous world they walked. He had stopped doing everything he could to provoke Sam into arguments all the time, though Sam welcomed that particular distraction at times.

Still, while he was frustrated with this particular stunt, he had to admit that it was good to get away from their dad for awhile and spend some time with Dean. Sure, he loved the man, but being around him could be incredibly oppressive at the best of times. Not to mention the explosive argument that had erupted when Sam had found out what their dad had planned. Dean and Bobby played the mediator, as usual, and things had gotten underway just like John had planned.

Sam felt that helpless rage batter him from within. It didn't matter how much he raged or fought, he never seemed to gain any ground with his dad. In fact, John Winchester had become even more driven during the last few years and it hadn't helped Sam any.

At times the strength and depth of his anger and resentment frightened him. He had no control over his emotions anymore, and that frightened him more than just about anything else did.

"Am I going to have to carry you the rest of the way Samantha?" Dean's voice broke into his jumbled thoughts and brought him abruptly back to reality.

"What? I'm keeping up," Sam replied, stumbling a little over a concealed branch.

"Well if you'd like to wake up and give your input into just how we're going to get out of this stinking forest, I'd appreciate the help."

"You mean the guy who always brags about how freaking amazing he is with a map and a compass actually needs help?"

"Gimme a break, Sam-o. I just don't want you to fall behind. After all, it's not like most people can keep up with the great Dean Winchester," Dean grinned at him over his shoulder. "I'm doing you a favor, after all."

Sam rolled his eyes again and quickened his pace.

"Of course. How kind of you."

"It's what I do, Sammy."

.TBC


	2. Protection

**Disclaimer:**_Supernatural belongs to it's rightful owner/creator. I make not profit from this. Lyrics belong to Robert Plant's "Big Log"_

**Warnings:**_Violence, swearing, subjects which could offend._

**Author's Note:**_This chapter is shorter than the rest of them will be, hopefully. This story is a bit of a challenge for me, as I've never written a sequel before. It will also be a little shorter than The Strange Face of Love, but I hope it will be just as good. _

_Next chapter will be from Dean's perspective._

* * *

_**Part One: Protection**_

_My love is a-miles in the waiting_

_The eyes that just stare, and the glance at the clock_

_And the secret that burns, and the pain that grows dark_

_And it's you once again_

- -

"So what's the plan genius?" Sam asked as he slumped down against a tree trunk. They were taking a brief five minute breather before they continued. The terrain had grown steadily rougher as they had walked throughout the afternoon, their way blocked by boulders and rocks, thick undergrowth, ditches and streams and fallen trees. It seemed to Sam as if they were starting to climb, and he had to wonder where exactly they were. At least it didn't look like it was going to rain, and Dean seemed to know what he was doing so he was content to follow.

It still didn't make him like the whole thing any better, but getting pissed off about it wouldn't change anything. He'd wait until they got out before he gave into his anger.

"Plan is for you to shut up and follow my lead," Dean replied as he took a few sips from their only water bottle.

"Isn't that what I've been doing so far, idiot?" Sam grumbled. "I mean where are you headed? What's the plan to get to the meeting point?"

"Quickest way is if we cut across these foothills. We should come across a river sometime tomorrow morning. If we follow that then it'll take us straight to where Dad and Bobby are."

"Should?" Sam queried, raising an eyebrow as he accepted the water bottle from Dean. Dean grinned at him as he tied a bandanna over his head and began to strip off his outer shirt.

"That is if I don't get us lost before then."

Sam tilted his head as he watched Dean tie his shirt around his waist and stuff his jacket into the back pack.

"If you're trying to scare me it won't work," he told him calmly. "Dad would be pissed if you got us lost on purpose and you know it."

"And since when did you care about Dad getting pissed about anything?" Dean shot back good naturedly. "Seems like these days you go out of your way to piss him off."

"That's not the point," Sam muttered, looking away sullenly.

There was no way Dean would get them lost, he knew that. Besides him actually having a reasonable head on his shoulders, he wouldn't risk pissing their dad off because he knew the man was serious about the whole training shit. Sam couldn't care less about the whole thing, but he went along with it because he had no choice, and because he knew Dean wanted him there. And if he was (grudgingly) honest with himself, there was no way he'd just let Dean walk off into the forest by himself. Too many things could go wrong, despite all of his knowledge about surviving in the outdoors. A broken ankle, a snake bite, rock falls, bad weather...There was no way he'd let Dean go at it on his own. If he was there and something happened, they would tackle it together.

He started slightly as Dean collapsed beside him and took the water bottle out of his hands.

"We're headed North East at the moment. Once we hit the river we'll be heading East."

"Wait a minute..." Sam frowned. "Doesn't that mean we're taking a longer way? If we'd avoided the foot hills and headed North we would have hit the river faster and we could have followed it straight to the meeting point."

"That's true. But..." Dean paused as he wrestled the map from his jeans pocket. "The terrain that way is very difficult. The way we're taking is longer, but it's easier. See? The terrain to the north is a lot denser than this. Trust me, Sammy. This way is better."

"I still think we could have gone the other way." Sam replied.

"Well, geek boy, we're too far into these hills to go back now." Dean punched him on the shoulder cheerfully. "Best to suck it up and stop with the girly whining."

"Who's whining?" Sam snorted. "Someone needs to represent the other side of the coin here Dean."

Dean shot him a weird look and got to his feet, stretching with a grunt.

"How am I related to you? Other side of the coin my ass..."

Sam shook his head and got to his feet.

"Whatever man. Let's just get this over with, alright? God if I have to listen to you for another _two _days about how frigging amazing you are, I swear I'm gonna kill you."

"Who, me? Just trying to help you face the facts, Sammy boy. I can't help it if you're jealous."

Sam followed his brother as he climbed around a bolder and started back in the direction they were headed. He had no problem with scrambling up the small inclines and rises with his longs legs and arms. In fact, if anything, his height was more of a hindrance. When he had turned fifteen he had shot up like a bean stalk, becoming all gangly legs and long arms. To make it worse, he hadn't yet filled out, so he was whipcord thin with elbows and knees that stuck out awkwardly. It had taken him awhile to adjust to fitting in smaller places, and he was still catching his limbs on doorways and furniture.

Squeezing through a small crevice between two boulders had Dean chuckling as he grabbed his arm and helped him through as Sam swore.

"I could easily kill you out here and bury the body. No one would ever find you," Sam muttered as he brushed dirt from his jeans and hoody.

Dean laughed out loud at this as he continued up the slope.

"I can think of at least one person who would be asking questions."

Sam shook his hair out of his eyes and refused to get pulled into Dean's conversation. If he let him, Dean would continue the argument for hours just for entertainment, and Sam knew that before an hour was out, he'd be sick of it. Better to quit while he was ahead, he figured. It would save him the headache at the very least.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sam frowned as he ducked a low hanging branch. Dean was humming up ahead, some Metallica song that he didn't recognize. They hadn't talked in awhile, but that was normal for them. The sense of co-existing without needing to talk had always been a comfortable one for him. A lot of the time they communicated without speaking, mostly through body language or eye contact, but when Dean didn't feel the incessant need to annoy him to distraction, and Sam had nothing to say for a change, they found that they could keep each other company in silence without it being strained.

He wasn't sure if he was comfortable with it this time. Sure, Dean seemed content enough, ruthlessly breaking branches and tramping through the undergrowth as he hummed, but something was bugging Sam, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

Maybe it was the way the sun was shining without a trace of warmth, or the cool wind which raced through the trees. The rustling of leaves and branches was making him edgy, but there was something else that wasn't quite right.

Some people would be admiring the day and the fresh air, but not Sam. His senses were on high alert, and he was buzzing with a barely contact adrenalin. His fight or flight instinct, already more heightened than Dean's or their father's, was poised to kick into action at the slightest provocation.

"Hey, uh…Dean?" he called out hesitantly.

"Yeah?" Dean stopped and turned around, looking down at him from a small rise.

Sam glanced around himself surreptitiously before looking back up at him.

"Do you…uh.." he broke off, wondering how to say what he needed to say without making it sound lame and stupid.

Dean was frowning down at him, sweat glistening on his forehead and soaking the edge of his bandana.

"What's up, Sammy? We've still got a lot of ground to cover."

"Do you think we can stop soon?" he asked, rethinking his position. "I'm not feeling too good."

There was no point in informing Dean of his uneasiness until he had something solid to back it up. No doubt Dean would think him more stupid and childish than he already did, and Sam couldn't afford to lose his only ally against his father over something so little. He told himself he was being paranoid, and that it meant nothing.

He was just tired that was all. They had been walking since midday, and it was nearing dusk rapidly. In fact, he was suddenly ravenously hungry.

Dean had tilted his head and gave him a calculating look before he turned around again and set off. He probably knew that Sam was lying; in fact, Sam would bet everything he owned that he did. But for once, Dean didn't call him on it, and let it slide. Sam was an excellent liar, better even than Dean. But the one person he couldn't lie to was Dean, for his older brother always saw through it.

Sometimes Sam felt like Dean could see through his every defense and down into the very depths of his being. It unnerved and irritated him at times, but there was nothing quite like the knowledge and security of having someone who knew you to the bone.

"We'll start looking for a place to hole up for the night," he called over his shoulder. " I don't think it'll rain, but I'd rather not take the chance."

Sighing with relief, Sam scrambled up to follow his brother. At least if they found a sheltered place to rest for the night, then he could try and soothe his fears in peace. That was, if Dean left him alone long enough to be able to.

As they continued on their rough trek, Sam's mind began to fill with the kind of thoughts that usually plagued him when he had too much time on his hands. Which usually led to him becoming moody and distracted and causing major frustration for both his father and Dean. It wasn't like he could help it. Hell, he tried to stop himself from thinking too deeply on things that got him feeling down, but somehow or other, he was always inevitably drawn back into doing just that.

Most of the time it was things to do with family, and all the things that he longed desperately for but could never actually reach no matter how hard he tried. Surprisingly, a lot of the time he thought about his mother. Would she be pleased with the person he was or disappointed? What would she think of all the things he had been forced to do? Of all the things he had killed, and hunted, and everything he knew about that he shouldn't? Would she be proud of his attempts to be strong, and his courage when he faced down the demons that consistently followed him no matter how far he traveled?

Sam hoped so. And even though he had never actually met her, didn't remember her at all, he loved and missed her. One of his biggest losses, he figured, was that he had never known a mother's love. Maybe that was the reason he was so different. Or why he was such a screw up, though he knew most of that was through his own doings.

The other thing he thought about a lot was the Wraith. Despite it being one of the things that he needed to put behind him more than anything, he couldn't seem to stop thinking about it. Sam couldn't remember everything that had happened, and the things he did remember were a little hazy, but despite that, he had learned many things. Most, he wished he hadn't, but some were good.

The whole experience had left marks on him, gouged deep valleys in who he was, like the way glaciers had helped shape the land thousands of years ago. He couldn't help but feel that that incident had changed who he was, and he knew he didn't much like who he had become. And he wasn't the only one it had changed. His dad had become more focused, more driven, and more determined. The changes in Dean had been more subtle, and Sam was still trying to figure those changes out, despite all the time that had passed.

After everything, no one had really talked about what had happened. Dean had let him know, in his own way, that if Sam needed to get anything off his mind that he would be there to listen. And he had listened, when Sam had been woken time after time by the vicious and violent nightmares that disturbed his sleep. He'd listened to his nonsensical, half sobbed ramblings that didn't make sense even to him .He'd soothed Sam back into sleep, whispering nonsense into his ear that never failed to calm him. Sam had wondered if that was what his mother would have done, and decided that it probably would have been.

"Hey, boof head," Dean said. "Snap out of it."

Sam blinked and realized that Dean had stopped walking and that he'd almost crashed into him.

"I think here's a good place. At least for a few hours. We'll have to get an early start tomorrow morning if we've going to make rendezvous," Dean told him.

Sam immediately felt guilty for Dean. Because of his insecurities, yet again, Dean had had to change his plans to accommodate him. He wondered if Dean ever thought of him as a burden, nothing more than deadweight who held him back. And not for the first time, he wondered what Dean's life would have been like without him around. He'd probably be a person (or as normal as Dean could be) with a mother and a father and probably a girl friend too. What would he do for a living, Sam wondered, as he followed Dean up into the small, sheltered half cave he'd found. Would he be a doctor? An outdoor adventurer? Something active, that was for sure.

Sam didn't have much of a chance to think about this because a fist caught him gently on the side of his head.

"What the hell is running through that over sized brain of yours huh?" Dean asked, without any judgment in his tone. "I swear, every time I look at you, you seem like you're about to drown in a puddle of your own emo-ness."

Sam snorted at his brothers phrasing, and shook his head.

"Trust me, you don't want to know," he muttered half to himself as he pulled their backpack between his legs and opened it. "Did the drill Sergeant pack us any food or are we expected to catch our own?"

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes as he sat down next to him.

"You don't let anything go, do you? How long are you going to hold this particular grudge?"

Sam glared at him for a second before going to back to rummaging through the bag. There was the map Dean had been using, a water bottle, a compass, Dean's battered Zippo, two large hunting knives, a small first aid kit, a small flash light, an EMF and a plastic bag with what had to be food in it.

Sam pulled it out and opened the bag, frowning when the first thing he saw was an enormous packet of Dean's peanut M&M's. To his dismay, as he burrowed through the bag, all he found was junk food. He whipped his head up to glare at Dean, who grinned and retrieved the M & M's.

"What? Dad said to always be prepared."

"Did you throw out all the good food just so you could get your sugar fix?" Sam growled.

"What? Dad only gave us boring shit. We need sugar for this job," Dean replied around a mouthful of chocolate. Sam screwed up his nose disgusted.

"So if we were really stuck out here, starving to death and all we had was all this crap, we'd make ourselves sick with junk food?" Sam queried, although he really wasn't surprised at Dean's explanation. If he could, Dean would live off unhealthy food, filled with calories, sugar and caffeine. Sam couldn't eat half the stuff that Dean could for more than a few days before he started feeling sick.

"Sam, if we were actually stuck out here and starving to death, we'd be happy with whatever we had."

Sam shook his head, annoyed yet relieved at the familiar banter that Dean was providing. Somehow, without him even realizing it, Dean had dismissed his fears and distracted him with his usual antics. Sam had a sneaking suspicion that Dean had been using the tactic on his for years. It left him a little disgruntled and he wondered just how many arguments and discussions Dean had avoided using said sneaky tactic.

"Whatever. You're going to be fat and ugly in a couple of years if you keep eating this stuff," Sam told him, shaking his head and stealing a handful of Dean's chocolate. Dean made a swipe at his hand and missed.

"Me? Fat? And ugly? Not possible kiddo. Not a chance in hell."

Sam shook his head again and hid his smile, as he looked away. The sun had fully set, leaving dark purple and orange smudges on the horizon. The overhang that they were residing in was not only shielded from the cold wind, but it also provided a vantage point over anything that might try and approach them during the night. Not that that would do much good in that dark, but still, it was good thinking on Dean's behalf.

It was quiet, Sam realized. He wasn't used to such silence. Usually at night all he could hear was his dad's or Dean snoring, and the cars and trucks passing by whatever motel they were calling home at the time. All he could hear was the occasional cricket, the muted hooting of an owl and the wind.

That same uneasiness returned to settle deep within his gut. It was a familiar feeling to him, but despite that, it never got any easier to live with. He never felt safe anymore, even when Dean was at his side, though he never let him know that. All Dean wanted was for him to be safe, he knew, and even when he was he never fully felt it.

The EMF would let them know if something was around. Until then, he'd have to rely on Dean and himself. Dean was munching away happily beside him, lost in his own thoughts and his sugar hit, so Sam wrapped his arms around himself and closed him eyes. With Dean at his shoulder keeping watch, there wasn't much that he couldn't handle.

TBC


End file.
